


All of the dreams that haven't come true

by JuliaBaggins



Series: Cause I don't want to live without you [2]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Memories, and he's hurting, as far as percival knows credence is dead, he's remembering some of the good times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins
Summary: A sequel to "I still remember your soul of beauty".After having been rescued from where Grindelwald held him, Percival Graves must deal with life again. A life without Credence.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was totally amazed by all of the positive feedback I got for "I still remember your soul of beauty"; thank you all so so much! ♡
> 
> On various requests, I continue this story - it's planned to be a three parter, and the very end will be a happy one. Promised ;)

Sunlight.

The bright December sun’s rays were shining through the hotel room’s high window, illuminating a lonely figure laying on top of the bed, not moving. Percival Graves’ eyes were fixed on the white ceiling; his mind was caught up in memories.

 

It got harder to fight the memories whenever there was nothing else to keep himself busy with, and this sunny Saturday afternoon offered him no distractions at all. He had been released from the hospital weeks ago, the investigation of Grindelwald disguising himself as Percival was nearly closed and he had politely rejected when Tina had invited him to come for lunch at her place. He had always liked the young witch, her devotion, her talent, and he hated to hear what he… what she had to go through during the last few months thinking it was _him._

She had visited him in the hospital, their relationship had improved, but still… It was hard being surrounded by people again after one year that was mostly spent alone in darkness, and Percival could only imagine that it wasn’t any easier to see an old friend again after having heard his very voice sentence you to death.

And then there was Tina’s sister, Queenie. That was the worst. It was not as if he wouldn’t like her, and she couldn’t help using her talent without thinking about it, but it was too much. The pity, the pain, the heartbreak that flashed across her face whenever they looked into each other’s eyes.

 

Percival had never been one to talk about his feelings; for a long time, there hadn’t been anything (or rather _anyone_ ) worth doing so, and when there was, he avoided people’s curiosity by keeping his cool and detached mask in place. Percival had hidden the fact for most of the time, but he had been happy. Before. Before Grindelwald, before the darkness, before _he_ had… left. Been taken away. Forever.

Percival wouldn’t even allow himself to think of Credence’s name, though his face haunted him – in the streets, in his nightmares and, worst of all, in the good dreams too. Dreams that borrowed from his memories without asking, weaving glimpses from a past life into bright could-have-been’s that would never come true. 

In his dreams, Percival saw _him_ smile. A shy flicker of his lips sometimes, barely recognizable (though Percival always saw them, these precious smiles, always); at other times, a full smile, lighting up his delicate features. There would be smiles, touches, whispered words he couldn’t have imagined himself thinking, leave alone saying, before all of… _this._

And then, he would always wake up. Alone. Grieving.

For whatever reason, they never kissed in Percival’s dreams, and he was thankful for it. Everything else already hurt worse enough, but this… never had Percival been kissed like this, never had he wanted to do so before, and now, it just _hurt._

 

As he finally admitted to himself that staring at the ceiling wouldn’t keep any of the memories away, Percival got up. Looked around. The hotel room wasn’t big, but for whatever he may lack in size or furnishing, he made up with the view. The high windows provided an extraordinary perspective of the central park; a calm space in the middle of this busy city, inhabited by trees that look as if they would have died, dark skeletons, ripped of all their leaves. But they hadn’t. These trees were sleeping, and in the next spring, they would come to life again; an exploding mass of green, and they would be alive, alive, alive.

 

Half an hour and two glasses of whiskey later, Percival found himself surrounded by these trees, wandering around like he wouldn’t have a destination. Though he had one, of course he did, even if he wouldn’t think about it – the moment his feet had left the hotel’s door they had known where they were going.

And suddenly, way too early for his liking, he was there. It might have looked like just another tree, one individuum that didn’t stand out of the mass all these trees built, but oh, how far from the truth this was. At least for Percival Graves.

He remembered them, walking through this very park a few weeks after… after all of it had started. An investigation with Tina, one he had offered to help out with as a colleague had fallen ill and he missed being out on the streets. An investigation that should have been little more than a distraction from his days in the office combined with keeping an eye on these no-maj’s for him, but oh, how quickly it had turned into something else. Into so so much more. 

They had walked through this park, stolen moments in the dim light of a cloudy Monday evening; no company except for a streetlight here and there. Percival couldn’t remember what they had talked about, but what he did remember was how their hands had found each other’s somewhere between two of these streetlights. Between the two he was looking at at the moment.

Shortly after the joined hands, lips had followed their example, meeting each other’s – hesitant at first, then more and more confident, hungry in the end, like they had never tasted anything as good as each other. And maybe they hadn’t.

When they had broken their kiss, their very first one, both of them were breathless, and there had been stars – in the sky above them and in the dark eyes staring at Percival intently, filled with wonder. Later, when they had sat next to each other after some more kissing, their backs leaning against this special tree, Percival had thought about words. About one that could fit this strange feeling in his chest; if he’d ever be brave enough to say it if he found the right word. He hadn’t been. Percival had never expressed this _feeling,_ had never had never known how, and it was not as if they would have been in a rush, right? There could be years of brushed of fingers that felt as if they were setting his whole body on fire, of finding reasons to smile in the small things, of wondering if this was what _happiness_ felt like. Except that there weren’t.

 

Percival remembered their last kiss just as well as their first, though of course he hadn’t known that it would be the very last touch of earth’s sweetest lips to his own. At least to himself. _He_ would have never known that this had been their last kiss, and oh, how this thought hurt.

Right after being released from the hospital, Percival had pleaded Tina to tell him the whole story, or what she knew of it – the basics he had already gotten, but with the details she had refused to tell him until he would feel better. As if he ever would.

Tina talked about an ominous danger in the city, she talked of a British wizard with a suitcase (and was this a trick of the lighting, or was there a glistening in her eyes when she mentioned his name?), of fantastic beasts and adventures, and finally, she talked about _him._ The obvious grief in her voice somehow made it… not better, but somehow more bearable. Such a hard contrast to the president, talking in a voice that lacked all emotions about a thread that had been dealt with. Eliminated.

After Tina had told him the whole story, Percival had excused himself, his mind unable to work around the information he had just received. Oh, how _convinced_ she had sounded when she told him, a tear escaping her eye, that she was sure that the man with the suitcase could have _helped him_. Saved him. And how it had been Percival’s face that got into the way. How that kind kind boy, so bravely fighting against the darkness, had died thinking Percival had betrayed him.

 

Percival leaned his back against the tree, his hand grabbing cold dead leaves by his side, and there, in the loneliness of the park, surrounded by nothing but memories, Percival Graves allowed himself two things.

He allowed himself a tear. And a name. _Credence._

Credence, whose eyes could hold all of the city’s warmth in them, who looked at Percival like no one ever had, whom he wanted to protect from all the pain in the world.

Credence, for whom he now raised his wand, letting flowers grow all around their tree, little stars in the middle of death and cold and darkness.

 

Credence, whom he would never see again.

Credence, whom he had failed to protect.

Credence, whom he had loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from For King and Country's "Matter".
> 
> If you enjoyed reading this, please leave a comment! ♡


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